Pride of the Past
by Cesallone
Summary: After Hawke gave his life on Adamant, saving both Loghain and the Inquisitor, Merril stays depressed in Kirkwall a year after Corypheus's defeat. As Varric helps with the reconstruction of Kirkwall, a mysterious elf seeks to enlist Merril to his cause. This will be a short 3 chapter fanfic, showing Merril's fate after Inquisition and before Trespasser.
1. Chapter 1 - The Offer

She finally conviced herself to go back to the state, even if only to pick the last of her things back. She couldn't bring herself to live there. Not since she got Varric's letter, over a year ago. Too many memories lived there. Memories of Hawke, of Bodhan and Sandal, the old Mabari, even memories of the keeper and her clan that finally decided to move on. They were her family, her world, and now they were all gone. Her small house on the alienage held it's own bad memories, but nothing so strong that she had to get away. Inf act, Merril now stayed in there most of the time, seeing the outside world only on the rare occasions that Varric sent someone to check on her, or even more rarely, when he came himself. It moved her that he still found time to worry, even amidst all the chaos that he had taken upon himself. Rebuilding Kirkwall was such a monumental task she was always surprised at his endurance. Even so, not even his friendly face and attempted jests could lift her spirit. She was alone now, nothing to drive her foward. Curiously, she didn't care anymore. She wasn't needed. Ever since Varric came back he and Aveline had helped the Alienage more than she ever did. The mirror had been restored, but somehow it felt empty now, a shell of something she once cared about. And so she stayed there, remembering happier days spent on her beloved Champion's embrace, the smell he had, the feel of his strong arms around her, the shine on his ever laughing eyes. She missed his jokes, his clever remarks about everything and everyone. The way he called her name. Merril. She barely recognized it anymore.

Most days she spent either reading in the dark or looking at the mirror, wondering if today was the day she would step through it. What was stoping her? She had nothing left to go back to, nothing left in Kirkwall. Varric would worry, but it might be weeks before he even notices she was gone. WHy coundn't she just get up and step through it. She wasn't afraid. She just... didn't care. Her world was gone. WHat did it matter if some small part of the past had been restored? She had no one to share it with. Her clan was gone, the other elves around now avoided her, pitying her, some even resented her, since she had lived for a time with a human noble. The Champion of Kirkwall at that. They didn't care that Hawke had helped them time and again. For them he was just a ghost now, a memory that quickly vanished as the mundane problems of day to day life continued. Not to her, however. It seemed that with each passing day Hawke's memory became more vivid. The hole on her chest always growing bigger. She could still see his face, hear his voice, remember his smell, but she would never again feel any of it. Many times had the anger overcomed her. She would throw aside her books, trash her house and sometimes even get out at night and butcher many outlaws that were unlucky enough to cross her way on the darker alleys of lowtown. Worst of all were the incoming news to her doorstep. Inquisition this, inquisition that. Inquisitor liberates area, Inquisitor kills dragon, Inquisitor defeats Corypheus, etc. She did not care what this man did. All she cared about him was that he was the reason for her suffering. He had decided to leave Hawke behind in the Fade, while some stupid warden got to live. Why couldn't they be dead and her Champion alive? Why did she had to always lose everything?

As her mind swept with thoughts of unfairness, someone knocked softly on the door. "Lady Merril?" Called a soft yet determined voice. "Is anyone home?" Continued the voice. Merril looked annoyed. "Who is it?" She finally replied. "A friend." Another one of Varric's, most probably. "Tell Varric I'm fine. He doesn't have to keep checking up on me." She didn't hear footsteps so she continued. "Are you still there?" Now she heard a little chuckle. "Yes, my lady." She didn't like the tone of his voice. "Did you hear what I just say?" Another chuckle. "I'm sorry my lady, but wasn't master Tethras that sent me here. Was another one." Somehow, she found herself wondering, hoping even. "Who?" This time, there was no chuckle. "One like us. An elf. He'd like to make you an offer."


	2. Chapter 2 - Fen'harel

The man on her door was called Varrion. He had short black hair and a very small frame covered by tatters of cloth and wool of various colors. He had a dagger strapped to his belt but aside from that seemed almost harmless. Yet he carried himself with a cocky air that said he was untouchable, almost as if he knew something no one else around knew. That made Merril angry, as most things nowadays did. "Will you come then?" He asked, the sly smile on his face never fading. "I don't know. Why should I care about some elf on the other side of the world and what he wants? Why should I care about anything at this point?" Varrion looked over to the mirror. "You cared enough to restore the Eluhvian. That has to count for something." He didn't understand. That was before. Before her world had died with Hawke, the memories eating away at her in the dark like little creatures that nibbled away at her flesh. "That was before. This is now. And right now I don't feel like meeting anyone new, thank you." She tried to sound final, but the man just chuckled. She was never good at sounding imposing. Varrion looked at the ring Hawke had given her so many years ago. The one that told the story of the betrayal. "Interesting ring. The betrayal, was it? A fine story. My mother told me of it, when I was little. She was born dalish, like you. Yet she found herself in love with a city elf. A lowly city elf, could you imagine that? He didn't knew about the stories. My mother had to taught us both in these matters. Our panteon is colorful and varied, isn't it?" Merril didn't like the sarcastic way he said our. "Shame it's all a lie that ages constructed." That was too much. "What are you talking about?" Merril was almost screaming now. "The gods are real, but were traped by Fen'harel! Are you and your friend so full of yourselves that you believe to be right where years of culture were to be wrong?" He chuckled. His last one. Merril sent him flying through the hall with an arcane missile right in the chest. He coughed blood and got up slowly, but too slowly. Merril used his own blood to empower herself, binding him in hiw own blood. Unable to move, he didn't seem so sure of himself. She wanted to just kill him and be done with it, but she knew Aveline wouldn't approve. For a second she thought to hell with it. SHe didn't care anymore, but then Hawke's eyes came to her mind. She knew he wouldn't approve either. She dropped the elf, coughing on the ground and went back to her chair. "Leave." He slowly raised his head, his eyes shining blue. "I can't. Not without you."

"You've sacrificed so much Merril. You've lost so much more. What's keeping you here? Come see what we offer. SHould your interest not be piqued, you can always come back." He was right. Unless he was lying, but even if he was, at least it was something new. Kirkwall had nothing for her, neither did the dalish clans of the world. Maybe it was time to move on. She looked at the ring Hawke gave her then at the mirror she spent so much time on. She put the ring on her finger and stood up, a new look on her face. "Help me take the mirror somewhere first." He smiled. "Of course, my lady." The mirror felt like it always belonged on Hawke's estate. She took it to the vault underneath the main hall and covered with a great blanket. Even then it looked majestic, like everything else on the estate, even if the beauty of the place had a strange dying sense to it. She also left a letter on Hawke's desk, directed at Varric. When they were leaving, she finally thought to ask. "Your friend." She said. "What is his name?" Varrion chuckled. "Solas. But many of us call him Fen'harel."


	3. Chapter 3 - Dread Wolf

They walked for quite a time, leaving Kirkwall behind and heading for the hills, past the wounded coast. In a small cave she found herself surrounded by various elfs, some with the markings of the dalish and some without them. The accampament was simple but it seemed like they enjoyed more luxuries than one would have imaniged. Roasted meat sat above the fireplace and bottles of wine and beer lay around everywhere, while everyone carried some sort of weapon. Be it a bow or a sword or even a staff everyone had something, even the children with their daggers. At the end of the cave, resting on a slopped wall was a Eluhvian, just like hers, but with different addorments and silver working. Varrion told her to go through it and she held her breath while she did. On the other side she found herself in a world of colour and mazes, folating rocks coming and going and statues everyhere, alongside many and varied trees and grass. It was marvelous, but she abrely had time to process it all, as Varrion quickly took her through another mirror, and then another until they found themselves in a strange mountainside, even more colorful and alive then before. On the hill above there was a man. An elf, dressed in a luxurious golden armor with white drawings and very authentic furs. His bald head seemed funny at first, but the closer Merril got to the figure, the more impressed she was. There was something about this man. The way he stood still, hands behind the back and perfect posture. The way he calmy turned around as if dancing to a silent melody. He was powerful too. He didn't say a single world, but Merril could already feel his power. This man looked very much like a king. No. Not a king. A god. Fen'harel. Somehow, every tragedy on her life faded away from Merril's mind at that moment. She kneeled in front of him, afraid and respectful. "Stand, child." His voice was calm, but carried a sadness she couldn't help but notice. "I am glad you decided to come. I long wanted to meet you. Merril." She stood slowly, studying the man. Even so, she couldn't look him in the eyes. She didn't know why. "Yes." She said too quickly. "Merril is me. I mean, I am Merril." He smiled, while Varrion chuckled, turning around and leaving. Solas started walking back, and Merril followed. "I want to recruit you. I want you to be at my side for what needs to be done." Merril looked puzzled. "What needs to be done?"

She stood there for a long time hearing what solas had to say. Every now and then she wanted to stop him, but his presence alone was enough for her to no interrupt him. There was truth to his words and shw wanted to know everything. He told Merril about the Evanuris, about the veil and his title, the Dread Wolf. He told her everything, and she listened. Finally, he told her about the Vallasllin and finally tears got to her eyes. "So much wrong... I always wanted to revive the old ways, to preserve the past. For what? Slave markings?" Solas looked sad too. "I can remove it. If you want." Merril looked at him. "Please."

That was that then. Solas told her what needed to be done, and for a second she thought to deny him. What about everyone that lived in this world. What would happen to them? "They'll burn." Said Solas, sadness and remorse in his voice. "They will have to pay for my mistakes, like so many others before them." What about Varric, Aveline, Isabela, Bethany, even Fenris and Anders. What about them? "Varric is a good man. A good friend. I take no pleasure in the fate that must befell him and the others." His eyes became watery. "Just as I took no pleasure to learn the fate of your beloved." Hawke. So that was the reason. Hawke fell to defeat Corypheus and Solas felt responsible for Corypheus. That was the reason she was summoned there. Not because of her skill or her knowledge, but because of Hawke. It always came back to Hawke. She loved him still, but he was dead, and so she decided. She would help the elves of the world. Her people. And may the Dread Wolf take the rest.


End file.
